White Raven
by Dragonfly Rider
Summary: Sheila Thomson is an average girl. That is, until, she meets some very unusual friends. But can she like one of them more than just friends? Especially if she had to choose between him and someone else?
1. Encounters

A/N: Okay, I know all you Hidden Truth fans are probably planning a horrible and gory death for me right now, but wait! I have not abandonned it! I just needed a break. That's all. Really! (gulps) This fic is co-authored/beta-read by Canadian Pirate Queen! Yet again! Thanks chica!

Disclaimer: I do not own Ninja Turtles.

**White Raven**

_Encounters_

* * *

"Sheila!"

_Oh, damn…_

"Sheeeiiilllaaa!"

Sheila Thomson rolled over on her bed, trying to block out the annoying voice of her sister. Her bedclothes knotted around her, but she simply buried her head in her pillow and gritted her teeth.

"_Sheeeeeeeeeila!_" Her sister's lovely voice rose in song, turning Sheila's name into a musical sound. Sheila groaned.

"Stop it, Aqua! It's only ten thirty!" Sheila called out, her voice muffled by her pillow. With a grunt she flopped over, throwing a glance at her digital clock with her good eye. "Okay, ten forty five!" she amended. "But still!"

Sheila's door opened and in skipped Aquarelle, her nuisence of a younger sister. Her curly chestnut hair bounced happily on her shoulders, and her snapping, don't-mess-with-me blue eyes were sparkling. Sheila groaned again.

"Mom says you have to get up," Aquarelle proclaimed smugly, hands on hips. She wore artfully ripped blue jeans and a grey T-shirt with a navy blue hoodie. Her much-worn pair of Homer Simpson slippers seemed oddly out of place, as did the pure white rat draped around her neck.

"I told you not to bring that thing in here," Sheila grumbled. The tabby cat curled at her feet was eyeing therat hungrily. "You know Leo will try to eat it!"

"Bugs has a name, you know! And that monster won't eat him!" Aquarelle sniffed, stroking Bugs's head. Leo's tail switched back and forth, and his ears perked forward, pinpointing the rat's location.

"Well, you gotta get up," Aquarelle said, backing toward the door. "Just because it's Saturday doesn't mean you can sleep all day!"

"I beg to differ," Sheila mumbled sleepily, face planted firmly in her pillow. But Aquarelle had already left. The door was closed. Sheila sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes. "Sisters."

With a dramatic sigh, Sheila slid her pyjama-clad legs from under the twisted heap of blankets, careful not to desturn Leo. She surveyed her room with her left eye.

It was big. All of the house's rooms were. Being on the top floor, Sheila's ceiling sloped over her bed, and was papered with old drawings and sketches. An easel stood to her right, a half-finished painting still fixed in place. A desk with a computer on it was in the corner. All her school supplies were there, some of it spilling over onto the jam-packed bookcase that stood nearby. To her left was her windowseat. It was her favorite spot. She would curl up and draw or read a good book there. On the wall next to it was her closet door.

Sheila rose unsteadily to her feet, yawning. She donned her dressing gown and chose an old T-shirt and pair of cords, heading for the bathroom. She had a quick shower, got dressed, and tamed her hair with a messy ponytail, before making her bed. She grabbed her backpack and headed downstairs, leaving her bedroom door open for Leo.

"Morning, hon," Sheila's mother, Catherine, greeted her daughter from her seat on the couch. The paper was layed out in front of her on the coffee table, open to the crossword page. "Finally decided to get up, have you?"

"Yeah, got bored," replied Sheila, grinning. "Thought I'd eat, too. Hungry."

"So it is your stomach I must thank for finally driving my daughter to me," Catherine said, throwing up a hand to her forehead, a look of mock-despair on her face. "Here I thought you'd actually come of your own accord."

"It's only ten forty five," Sheila grumbled, ignoring her mother's drama. Her good eye found the clock on the wall. "Okay, eleven thirty seven, then."

"I have never known anyone spend as much time getting ready as you," Catherine shook her head, returning to her crossword. Sheila popped two pieces of bread in the toaster and poured herself a glass of orange juice, which she downed rapidly, before depositing the glass in the dishwasher. She listened idly to Aquarelle's lovely voice emitting from her room, singing along to an Evenessence song.

_I can't sing at all, _Sheila reflected ruefully. _All I inherited from mom was her sense of humour. Aquarelle got her hair, her voice, even her nose shape!_

The toaster dinged. Sheila grabbed the toast and slung her backpack over her shoulder, heading for the door.

"Where are you rushing off to?" Catherine called after her daughter.

"Nowhere!" Sheila called back, shoving her feet into her sneakers, not bothering to do them up properly. She yanked the door open and was halfway through before she added "See you later!" The door closed.

Sheila trudged along the street, chewing on her dry toast, the hubbub of New York City drowning out her footfalls. She expertly avoided the worst of the crowd, although it was not as bad as usual. She also dodged the groups of teenagers. Sheila was not a loner, but preferred alone time to hanging out in packs. If she spent any time with company she preferred one-on-one interaction, and only had a couple of friends. She made a beeline for _2nd Time Around, _an antique store. She was friendly with the owner of the shop, and loved to have a chat now and then.

"Hey, April!" Sheila smiled upon entering. The slim redhead behind the counter looked up from her magazine.

"Hey! Sheila! You're late." April grinned, leaning on the counter with her elbows.

"It's Saturday!" Sheila exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "You're _supposed _to sleep in! Either that or watch cartoons."

"Or both," April smiled. "Nothing planned for today?"

Sheila shook her head.

"Nope. Nothing. All my school friends have plans, and I've done all my homework!" Sheila spread her arms wide. "I can do whatever I want!"

"So you came here." April nodded. "Good choice. Want to come up for some tea? I was going to have a break now anyway."

"Sure." Sheila switched off the 'on' sign at the front of the strore and followed April up the stairs to her apartment.

"Make yourself at home," April offered, gesturing to the couch. "I'll put the kettle on." Sheila sat on the couch, casting the room a brief once-over with her right eye. It was quite small, but April had made good use of the space.

"Do you like sugar in your tea?" April called from the kitchen.

"Yes please. Two spoons," Sheila called back. She settled back onto the sofa, setting her backpack on a nearby chair. The Saturday Star lay open to the coverstory on the coffee table. Sheila, having nothing better to do, picked it up.

It was a sizeable column, about the four supposed 'heroes' of the gang world, titled '**The Shadow Warriors – Another Sighting!**' The handful of brief eyewitness accounts all said that there were four of them. They stuck to the shadows, never let anyone see them straight on, but were notorious for showing up in the nick of time to save people. Sheila scanned the article bordly, not believing a word.

_Just the press stirring stuff up again,_ Sheila thought in disgust.

"Here's your tea," April announced, handing the girl a steaming mug.

"Hey, April, watcha think of these 'Shadow Warriors'?" Sheila asked the redhead, blowing on her tea. She gestured to the paper.

"Uh… nonsense of course," April answered, averting her eyes from the girl. Sheila's interest peaked at her wary tone.

"Yeah. Complete bull," she agreed, watching April with her eye.

April nodded vaguely, sipping her scalding tea. She picked up the paper and studied one of the blurry, black-and-white photographs that decorated the page. "No real evidence at all." She tossed the Star back onto the tabletop. "I need more sugar. Be right back." She hurried to the kitchen, forgetting her tea in the process. Sheila grinned to herself. Her friend was hiding something.

She noticed the draw of the coffee table was open a crack. Noting April was busy pretending to rummage around for the sugar, Sheila eased the draw open and quickly scanned the contents. It had a folder in it, paper clippings sticking out of it. An inspection showed it was all articals about the 'Shadow Warriors', neatly cut out and marked with the date. Sheila was really interested now. Something was up.

"Found it," April said brightly, waving a small plastic container. Sheila jumped and shoved the draw shut, whirling around, trying to hide her snooping attempts.

"Uh… great! Look, thanks for the tea, but… I gotta go… Mom told me to be back by… now, so, I'll catch ya later, kay?" Sheila got up and swung her backpack over her shoulder, smiling all the time. April looked a little surprised, but grinned back.

"Okay. Sure. See ya later, Sheila." Shiela nodded and left the shop.

Sheila tried to shake off the weird feeling as she walked slowly in the direction of home. It was obvious April was hiding something, and Sheila was now deadly curious. She could not stand not knowing something. It was one of her weaknesses. She just _had _to find out what was going on.

Suddenly a thud from a nearby alley alerted her to a scuffle up ahead. Normally she would have avoided it like the plague, (probably a gang fight) but she was suddenly struck by the thought that it might me the 'Shadow Warriors' in action! Unable to resist the temptation, Sheila, ignoring her counsious that was screaming at her to turn back, stepped into the alley.

It was dark and stank, but this did not perturb her. She peered cautiously around a dumpster, eye adjusting to the dim light.

"Listen, punk," a gruff voice snapped. "Jus' hand over da cash and I won't kill ya."

"N-no! Go away you – you – freak!" A high, squeaky, adolescent male voice sounded.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." A sickening thump was heard, and Sheila could see a limp form on the ground. A guy standing in the shadows was watching him, and when he did not get up, turned, disgusted, to the huddle of other gang members cowering near the alley wall.

"Get out," he snarled. The youthes turned and fled.

"Nice going Raph," a gentler but annoyed-sounding voice cut in. A dark form was squatting near the gang-member's prone form on the ground, examining it. "You nearly killed this one."

"If he hadn't o' been stealin' in da first place, I wouldn't've had ta," the other retorted. "Les get outta here, Donnie. Fearless Leader wants us home now."

"Fine, fine," the angry guy's companion replied. "C'mon, Mikey." A figure slid out of the shadows. As it stepped into the soft light filtering in from above, Sheila had to bite back a gasp; the person wasn't human at all; it was a turtle!

A large, human-sized turtle-thing! It wore an orange bandanna, and shoulder- and knee- pads, and a belt, into which it had thrust a pair of what she guessed to be nunchakus. It was male, she guessed.

"Good, I'm starvin'," the orange one mumbled. It clutched at its stomach – no wait, _plastron _– groaning in apparent pain.

"You only ever think about food, Mikey," the gentle voice teased. Sheila could now see that it was a turtle just like Mikey, and wore a purple bandanna. The one wearing red was hovering behind his companions, eyes flitting around, wary.

Suddenly a burst of sharp pain hit Sheila's head, on her blind side. She yelped, falling sideways. The last thing she heard were the turtle-creature's startled yells before anothing blow sent her spinning into unconciousness.

* * *

CPQ: D'fly Rider thinks you're gonna kill her for not updating Hidden Truth, I had to poke extra hard to get her to put this up. I hope you all are happy!

DFR: (cowering in corner) Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I'm too young to die! Really! WHAAAA!

CPQ: Jeez, get a hold on yourself girl! Please review! Reassure her you won't kill her. She's on the verge of a nervous breakdown.


	2. Explanations

A/N: Well, here you go, the next chapter! Thanks to all my reviewers, and to CPQ, who once again, convinced me to put this up.

I'm English, so any spelling mistakes you see are probaly just English spelling.

Disclamer: It's in the name: _Fan_Fiction. I do NOT own the TMNT**  
**

**White Raven**

_Explanations_

Sheila felt very tired. She tried vaguely to collect her thoughts. What had just happened?

The 'Shadow Warriors'! April knew something! She had been walking home… the turtle-things! Sheila sat up with a start. She heard a startled cry from beside her.

"Hey, she's awake!" That voice sounded familiar… it belonged to one of those turtle things! The orange one, she thought. Fighting vainly to sort out her muddled thoughts, Sheila opened her eyes. She saw she was on a small single bed, and that there was a bedside table beside it. And sitting on a chair in the corner…

"Holy shit." It was the orange turtle guy!

"Uh… not exactly what I'd have expected," it said with a nervous grin. Sheila sat mutely for a moment, eye staring.

"Uh… er… w-where am I?" It was the only half-sane thing she could come up with, most of her queries consisting of either bad language or large amounts of mindless screaming. Since she did not like the sound of either choice, she picked the politest one.

"My home," the turtle thing said. "Uh, you got hit by a Purple Dragon dude. Got knocked out."

"Uh, thank you," Sheila said, still a little confused. She knuckled her good eye, rubbing the sleep from it. "What time is it?"

"3:37, wh-?"

"_In the afternoon? _Shit, my mom is going to _murder _me!" Sheila ripped the covers off and stuffed her feet into her shoes, which had been left by her bed. She looked around for her backpack.

"Where's my bag?" she asked the turtle-creature. He looked at her blankly.

"Why?"

"I gotta _go!_" Sheila cried in frustration. "My mom will kill me!"

"Hold on, you can't just run off! You'll tell people about us! And you need to be escorted home, anyway. You can't exactly find your way home form the sewers!" He clapped a hand over his mouth. "I shouldn't have said that."

"The _sewers?_ Oh great! Now she's _really _gonna have a hissy fit!" Sheila palmed her forehead, aggravated. "At least lemme call my mom and tell her I'm okay!"

"No! Someone could trace your call," the turtle creature seemed paranoid.

"Then where's my bag? I'll use my cell phone."

"Weeelll… that couldn't hurt…" he extracted her backpack from under his chair and reached out to give it to her.

Suddenly the door opened and the turtle-creature wearing purple appeared. The orange one stuffed the bag back under the chair, a decidedly guilty look on his face.

"Mikey, what are you doing?" the purple on asked.

"Um… she just wanted to phone her mom," Orange replied.

"You know we can't let her do that," Purple shook his head.

"Excuse me?" Sheila crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, glaring at Purple with her good eye.

"Look, you can't," he explained. "Somebody might track us."

"Who? Who the hell even knows you're here?" Sheila was getting seriously pissed now. On a hunch, she added, "Except for April O'Neil, of course." The two turtles stared at her, mouths agape.

"What? How do you know?" Orange asked, eyes bugging alarmingly.

"I didn't, but I do now. Cheers." Sheila sat back contentedly, grinning. Purple glared at Orange, who shrugged apologetically.

"How do you know April?" he asked.

"I stop in her shop every so often for a chat. She's nice. How do _you _know her?"

"Saved her from being killed a while back," Orange answered. Sheila raised an eyebrow.

"So you guys _are _those so-called 'Shadow Warriors'?" she said slyly. Orange grinned at her terminology.

"Yep that's us! Saving the innocent people of New York City by night, hiding during the day!" His face fell. "Well, I guess we pretty much failed to save _you_."

"Well I'm not dead," said Sheila, checking herself. "But I will be if you don't let me phone my mom!"

"Okay, but make it quick," Purple interjected. He nodded to Orange, who handed Sheila her backpack. The girl grabbed it and found the cell phone, quickly punching in the number. It rang twice before a slightly panicked voice answered.

"Sheila? Is that you?" It was her mother.

"Yeah, it's me," Sheila replied carefully. "I'm fine. Just… uh… visiting a friend. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" That wasn't even a lie!

"You're okay? Sure? Where are you exactly?" Catherine didn't miss a beat. "You should have told us!"

"I… lost track of the time. Sorry." Sheila shot a half-glare at the two watching turtles. "I gotta go. Talk to you later." She hung up.

"Happy?" she demanded. "She'll phone back soon if I'm not careful. I have to go."

"Look," Purple said wearily. "It's not that we don't trust you –"Sheila looked sceptical. "– Okay, well I guess it is. But it's for good reason. If anybody found out about us, we'd get shipped off to a lab for dissection! We need to… establish some stuff, first." He took a deep breath. "My name is Donatello. This is Michelangelo." He pointed to Orange. "But it's just Don or Mikey, usually. We have two other brothers, Leonardo and Raphael." Sheila whistled.

"Named after the Renaissance painters!" She grinned. "Cool."

"Yeah. We have a sensei – teacher – called Splinter. But he's a rat, not a turtle." Don watched Sheila for a reaction. She shrugged.

"Rats are cool. My sister has a pet rat. Leo has tried to eat it a couple times, but it's managed to evade him so far."

"Leo?" Mikey asked.

"My pet cat. I named him after Leonardo Da Vinci, actually."

"I have a cat too! He's named Klunk."

Don cleared his throat. The two turned to look at him again. Don told Sheila all about their 'origin story', helped along by a very enthusiastic Mikey.

"Wow," Sheila said when he was done. "That… is really cool! But, I still have to go home." Don nodded.

"Just swear on your honour to never reveal us to anyone, and you can go."

"Let's make a compromise," Sheila replied. "I'll swear by all my White Ravens never to tell anyone about you, unless it's essential, for some reason. Deal?" Don raised an eye ridge.

"White Ravens?"

"Yeah. My White Raven paintings. All one hundred and sixty five of them."

"Little obsessed, aren't you?" Mikey asked. She shrugged.

"I've been trying to paint it since I was seven. They pile up pretty fast. Do we have a deal? They're very important to me." Don nodded.

"Yeah. You can go. But I was going to check you for injuries, in case."

"I'm fine," Sheila replied. "Just a little tired. I just got knocked out, I think. They got me on my blind side." Don looked at her questioningly.

"I'm blind in my right eye," she elaborated, gesturing to it. "Have been since as long as I can remember."

"A one-eyed painter? That's new," Mikey remarked.

"Yeah." Sheila got up and slung her backpack over her shoulder. "Can one of you take me back home? Or at least help me find my way out of the sewers?" Mikey got up, a broad grin on his face.

"I'd be happy to escort you, ma'am!" he proclaimed. He hesitated for a moment. "What's your name?" Sheila palmed her forehead.

"I forgot! I'm Sheila. Sheila Rachel Thomson, to be exact."

"Well, Lady Sheila, come with me and I'll take you home!" Mikey attempted a courteous bow, failed, and offered her his arm. Sheila snorted and took it. Don shook his head.

Mikey led Sheila through the main lair area. The girl looked around wide-eyed, taking it all in. Another turtle was sitting on the couch, watching a news report on the huge collection of plasma screen TVs on one wall.

"Yo, Raphie! She's awake!" Mikey hollered.

"And soon to be dead if I don't get home!" Sheila grumbled in irritation. Raphael, she presumed, caught what she said and turned around, smirking.

"Parents worried?" he asked. His voice held a thick Brooklyn accent. She nodded.

"Well, betta getcha home, babe," Mikey sighed. Sheila raised an eyebrow a fraction, but said nothing. They walked over to a set of huge doors. Mikey hit a button and they opened, to reveal a gigantic elevator, or sorts.

"Enough space in here?" she asked, eyeing the large compartment. Mikey chuckled as he hit the 'surface' button. The doors closed.

"Yeah, need lots of room if we're bringing the Battle Shell or something down for Donnie to work on," he replied. There was a hiss and the doors slid open. They were in a warehouse of some kind. A huge, tank like van was parked nearby, and a couple of rusty motorcycles were half-visible behind a pile of crates.

"This," Mikey announced proudly. "Is the Battle Shell." He opened the door of the van, bowing a giggling Sheila inside. He hopped in the driver's seat and clipped the belt into place, revving the engine.

"You're old enough to drive?" Sheila inquired. Mikey shrugged.

"Technically yes, being seventeen, but I've been driving since I was fifteen." He pulled out of the warehouse (the doors were remote controlled, thanks to Don).

"Which way, babe?" he asked. Sheila gave him directions. He parked just down the street from her house.

"Well, I guess I'll see ya round," he said awkwardly. Sheila eyed him.

"So I can see you again?" Mikey scratched the back of his neck.  
"I'd like you to," he said with a grin. "We don't have many friends." Sheila smiled.

"I can't think why." She got out of the Battle Shell and waved as she walked away. Mikey waved back. He watched until she disappeared inside before he pulled away.

Sheila had a bad case of the goofy-grin when she entered the kitchen. Catherine was sitting at the table, clutching a mug of tea. She glanced sharply at her daughter as she entered.

"It's about time!" Catherine hugged Sheila. "I thought you said you'd be home soon!" Sheila did her best I'm-sorry-guilty expression.

"Sorry. I did get back as soon as possible." That wasn't really a lie.

"Well, who were you with?" But Sheila had already scampered upstairs. She shut her door and sat on the bed, her heart racing for some reason. That was the coolest thing that had every happened to her.

_I was right! _She thought triumphantly. _April was hiding something! I can't wait to tell her! _Sheila got up and shuffled over to her easel. An old drop cloth had been draped over it to keep the dust off. She pushed it aside. Mounted on the easel was a canvas, displaying a half-finished painting of a white raven. It was perched on a branch, wings half-open in preparation to take flight. One of its eyes was cloudy and misty. It was the only part of the painting that was finished completely.

_I am obsessed, _she thought ruefully, tracing the bird's wings with a forefinger. With a sigh she replaced the drop cloth and lay down on her bed. The sloped ceiling above her showed her various sketches of the same animal, in a number of different positions. A handful of the pictures were drawn in magic marker, from when she was little.

Leo jumped up on the bed, purring, rubbing his head against her hand. She scratched his ears absentmindedly, listening to the traffic outside her window.

Her phone rang. Leo let out a wild yowl and shot off the bed. His claws scraped Sheila's thigh; she let out a cry of pain.

"You stupid cat!" she yelled, pressing her hand to her bleeding leg. The phone rang again. With a snarl Sheila snatched it from its cradle and snapped,

"_What_?"

"Shy? Bad time?" With a groan Sheila sat on the bed.

"Jason! Oh, no, I'm fine." She winced as she wiped the scored marks on her leg. She got up and went into the bathroom. A very puffed-up Leo appeared soon after, fur stuck out. He sat down and washed his very bushy tail in an irritated manner. Sheila shook her head and balanced the cordless phone on her shoulder, while rummaging in the vanity for the hydrogen peroxide.

"So what's new?" Jason asked. He was one of her only school friends, despite him being a guy.

"Nothing. You?"

"Nope. Mom's out shopping. She's getting all upset. Dad's coming home next week." He sighed.

"Oh," Sheila said. She dabbed a cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide on her scratches, wincing as it fizzed and bubbled. "How long is he staying this time?"

"Only a couple of days. Long enough to have about fifty arguments with mom and storm out." Jason sounded really down. Sheila chewed her lip.

"Why don't you come down here?" she suggested. "We could watch a PayForVu or something. I have popcorn."

"You sure? Thanks Shy." Jason sounded really relieved. "I'll be right over. Bye." He hung up. Sheila hit the 'off' button and stuck a Band-Aid on her leg and tossed the wrapper in the garbage, before heading downstairs, tossing her phone on her bed en route. She plopped down on the sofa in the living room, flicking the TV on. She skimmed the menu, finding Monster-In-Law. With as shrug she hit the 'buy' button.

Jason arrived shortly, a super-sized bottle of Orange Crush with him. He plunked down on the couch, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the huge plastic bowl on the coffee table.

"Wha' we watchin'?" he asked, popcorn crumbs spraying the room. He swallowed. "Sorry."

"That's fine." Sheila grinned and stuffed popcorn into her mouth. "Mmm, extra butter." She swallowed with difficulty. "We're watching 'Monster-In-Law'." Jason shrugged.

"Sounds good to me."

They watched the movie, the popcorn and soda disappearing rapidly. By the time the end credits were rolling, they were both clutching the stomachs and moaning.

"I feel sick," Jason declared. "I don't think I should have had that last glass of pop…" he burped. Sheila wrinkled her nose.

"Gross."

"What are you two doing?" Catherine entered the room. "Are you going to be able to eat supper, Sheila?"

"Ugh, don't talk about food!" Sheila whined.

"You're the one that ate a whole two bags of microwave popcorn and a large soda," her mother shrugged. "I hope you like lasagna, Jason." Jason paled.

"She's cruel," Sheila muttered as her mother exited the room. With a groan she staggered to her feet and gathered the glasses, and empty bowl and pop bottle. She went into the kitchen and dumped them in the sink. Jason followed her, still clutching his belly.

"I'm never eating popcorn again," he moaned.

"Until the next time you come over," Sheila rolled her eyes. Jason made a face.

Catherine dished up the hot steaming lasagna, receiving whoops from Aquarelle and moans from both Sheila and Jason. Sheila's father, Jeffery, had been out all day, and arrived just as they sat down to eat. Sheila and Jason picked at their meals, but the rest of the family packed the lasagna away rapidly, and in no time it was gone.

"Well, thanks for the lasagna Mrs. Thomson," said Jason, wiping his mouth on a paper napkin. "But my mom wants me home by seven." He got up and headed for the door. Sheila followed him.

"Listen, Shy," Jason began after he had done up his shoes. "Thanks for… y'know… taking my mind off stuff." He shuffled awkwardly. Sheila smiled warmly.

"No prob. You're one of my best friends." She impulsively kissed him on the cheek, earning a shocked blush. He scrambled out the door, looking highly disconcerted. "Bye, Jay!" she called after him. He waved back. With a grin Sheila closed the door and went to help her mother clear the table.

* * *

Well, there you have it! Please R&R! Flames will be used to make smores. 


	3. Meetings, Greetings and an Argument

A/N: Yes,I know. I (and my excellent beta-reader CPQ) are finally brushing off the virtual cobwebs from this fic and picking up where we so inconsiderately left off. With the completion of Hidden Truth (lates in theSecrets Series) we can now direct all of our energies to writing and finishing this fic. Hallalujah! (cricket chirp)

Warnings: Um... mild swearing. Pretty much it...

Disclaimer: I do not own Ninja Turtles.

**White Raven**

_Meetings, Greetings and an Argument_

* * *

The next day dawned bright and early, and for once, Sheila was not in bed. She was up and bustling by seven, running a comb through her hair and brushing her teeth at the same time. She wore blue jeans that had long since been chopped off just below the knee, and a florescent orange tank top. Her hair was in a ponytail. She grabbed her backpack, tied her favorite navy hoodie around her waist and raced downstairs.

"Watcha doin' up s'early?" a bleary-eyed Aquarelle inquired from the table. She had plate of blueberry muffins in front of her. Sheila snatched one from the plate and bit into it; it was her mother's work. Her mother was an excellent cook, and loved doing it. Sheila relished the muffin as she thrust her feet unceremoniously into her white flip-flops. She was opening the door as she called,

"Let mom know I'm going to _2nd Time Around, _kay, Aqua?" she yelled over her shoulder. "See ya later!"

Sheila half walked, half jogged down the street. Her muffin quickly vanished, and she tucked the paper wrapper in her pocket, not being a litterbug. She arrived at the antique store. The sign on the door read 'Closed. Please Come Back Later."

_It is Sunday, _Sheila thought. _I wonder if April's in her apartment? _Sheila ventured into the alley next to the shop, knocking on the side door. No reply. She knocked again. There was a scuffle from withing, and the door opened a crack.

"Sheila?" April looked surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd drop by." With a sly grin, she added, "Seen any Shadow Warriors lately?" April chuckled.

"They told me about you. They helped you from a gang attack, right?" Sheila nodded. "C'mon up. They're here now, actually." Sheila followed April inside, kicking off her flip-flops. They went upstairs into the apartment.

"Guys, Sheila's here," April called as she walked into the living room. Sheila's eye swept the room expectantly.

Mikey sat on the couch. He grinned at her with a cheery "Hey babe!" His friendly manner helped quell the irrational butterflies swarming in her stomach. Don was seated on a chair and smiled at her shyly. Raph nodded brusquely at her. He leaned casually against the wall, a dagger-like thing with three prongs twirling easily on his thick green index finger. She noted an exact replica of it was thrust through his belt.

The fourth green occupant of the room stood with his arms crossed in an almost defensive manner. He wore a blue bandanna and the hilts of two swords were visible over the edge of his shell. He was standing behind the sofa, his eyes trained on Sheila, his face smooth and expressionless. His pupil-less eyes were cold. Sheila shivered slightly and sat next to Mikey. She subconsciously tugged on the sleeves of her hoodie.

"Anyone want some tea?" asked April. "I've put the kettle on." The blue-clad turtle nodded, his eyes never leaving Sheila. Raph shrugged in a neutral sort of way. Mikey shook his head, and Don got up and offered to help out. April and Don disappeared into the kitchen.

"I don't believe we've met," the blue-banded terrapin stated calmly, breaking the silence.

"Oh! I'm Sheila Thomson," Sheila introduced herself nervously, shifting in her seat. "Your friends saved me from some gangsters yesterday."

"My name is Leonardo," he replied. "And they're my brothers." His eyes hadn't budged.

"Why don't ya take a picture?" Sheila snapped irritably, getting annoyed now. "It'll last longer."

"She's got ya there, Leo," Raph snickered. Leo just continued his stare. Sheila felt her cheeks warm up.

"You take sugar, Leo?" April called from the kitchen.

"No, thanks," he said. He hadn't even raised his voice. Sheila was now beginning to wish she had never even got out of bed.

_The guy got issues? _She growled mentally. _Now I know why I didn't meet him yesterday. Maybe they thought I'd report them if I met him. _She snorted. Leo's eyes narrowed. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

April and Don arrived with the mugs of tea, setting them on the coffee table. Sheila blew on the hot beverage, purposely ignoring Leo. He actually tore his gaze from her just long enough to pick up his own tea before continuing his constant vigilant on her.

"So," he said. "Donatello told me that you have sworn on your honour to never to reveal our existence to anyone, correct?"

"No," replied Sheila coolly. She waited for his face to begin to darken before she added as an afterthought, "I swore on my White Ravens."

"Your… White Ravens?" Leo blinked. "What are those?"

"My most treasured possessions, let's put it that way," she informed him.

"They are material possessions," Leonardo shrugged indifferently. "They can't be that important."

"You have no friggin' idea, you _shangala_,"(A/N: See end Author's Note)Sheila hissed venomously. "Don't you _dare _say they aren't important! But fine! Have it your way. I swear that if I tell anyone about you – if it's for my own gain, and not yours, that is – I will allow Aquarelle to wake me up for one thousand weekends at 5:00 AM. Okay? That satisfy you?"

"We do that anyway," Raph murmured.

"I sleep in till eleven. You get the point?" Sheila snarled. Leo was appraising her again. His face was unreadable.

"Fine," he answered after a pregnant pause. "And… what's a 'shangala'?"

"Jackass."

"Excuse me?"

"No, it means 'jackass' in Spanish." Sheila smirked at the befuddled look on his face.

After that Leo pretty much left her alone. Don and April went off to work on some computer program or other, and Raph disappeared after seeing a mild commotion in an alley opposite the building. Leo prowled the room, meditating off and on. Sheila and Mikey talked.

"So, you like cartoons?"

"Shell yeah! I love cartoons! They're mother's milk to me."

Sheila giggled.

"How about you?"

"Cartoons are cool. I like drawing best."

"You mean drawing cartoons?" inquired Mikey.

"Sometimes. Mostly not."

"Draw me something." Mikey put on his best puppy-dog pout.

"Draw you something? Um… what?"

"Anything."

Sheila cast a glance around the room, trying to think of something interesting to draw. Her gaze settled on Leonardo, meditating quietly in the corner. A slow grin spread across her face.

She rummaged in the coffee table draw and found a pencil stub and scrap of paper. She spread it out on the tabletop and looked at Leo again, sizing him up. Then she began to draw.

Quickly she sketched out a rough picture of Leo. He made it easy, not so much as twitching. She finished it off briskly and handed it to an overly excited Michelangelo.

"Oh… wow!" Mikey whistled, holding the drawing at arms length and studying it critically. "This is great! You've really captured his essence!"

Sheila cocked her head, looking at her picture.

"I don't know. He looks kind of uptight to me."

Mikey grinned wickedly.

"That's what I meant."

Leo lifted an eyelid, glaring at the guffawing pair.

"I'm trying to meditate."

"Yes sir, Mr. Relaxation, sir," Mikey rolled his eyes. Sheila muffled her giggles with her fist. Leo opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and returned to his meditation.

"But seriously, though, this is great," Mikey said once he had sobered. "Can I keep it?"

"Sure!" Sheila nodded. "Nobody's ever wanted to keep one of my drawings before."

"Well they should be in an art gallary!" Mikey declared. "They're damn good! So long as they're not of us, of course."

"No, that wouldn't go over well, eh?" chuckled the girl. "And I don't think anybody'd pay to see my White Ravens." Her smile faded abruptly. Mikey frowned.

"What are they exactly? You said you've 'tried to draw them since you were seven'."

"I… they hold a certain, um, sentimental value to me," Sheila replied carefully. As Mikey only quirked an eyeridge, she elaborated. "Okay. You know how I'm blind in one eye?" Mikey nodded. "Well, when I was little, my uncle had a pet raven. A white raven. Her name was Branwen, after the Welsh goddess of love. Because I was so young, I thought that I was… abnormal. A freak of nature, you might say. Even though my parents tried to pursuade me otherwise, I believed I was unnatural. Branwen was the first living thing I'd ever met that had a blind eye, too. She was the same as me. I was really attached to her.

"Well, when she died, I was devastated. Then I started drawing. Obsessively. I just drew her over and over, day and night, whenever I had a spare minute. I've kept every single one that I've ever drawn. I've got the all in my room." Sheila sighed. "It was my way of coping, to try to create an exact replica of her so she'd always exist. Kinda lame, huh?"

"Nah," Mikey shook his head with a smile. "That's actually a really cool way of dealing. With her death, I mean." He paused. "You said that you've been 'trying' to draw her since you were seven. Why trying?"

"I can never get her just right. Never perfect. I guess I'm a bit of a perfectionist with my drawings."

"'Perfection is self-abuse of the highest order'," Mikey said with a grin. "Or that's what Master Splinter says."

"Master Splinter?"

"Our sensei? We mentioned him. You haven't met him, but you will. He'll want to see you."

"Oh, right, I forgot." Sheila let her gaze wander the room, her ears picking up the sounds of Don and April talking in low voices from her office. Her eye found Mikey again. He was watching his brother meditate, his face thoughtful. His right arm was slung easily over the back of the couch, his hand resting a few inches shy of her left shoulder. His other hand was toying with one of his 'chucks. His two-toed feet were on the coffee table. Sheila felt an unwelcome prickle along her spine, as she looked him over, making her shiver.

_He's buff! _She thought to herself with a smile. _Much more muscly than the guys at school… _she stopped that thought. _Ugh! What is wrong with me? He's a turtle! Nothing wrong with that, but how am I supposed to even have a relationship with him? Why am I even _thinking _this! Who says I'm having a relationship with him? Not that I am, of course. What if he doesn't like humans? But he acts friendly. He calls me _babe_. That's proof he likes me, right? But he calls April babe too. But not the same way as he does with me. Maybe he _likes _me!_

"Sheil'?" Mikey waved a hand in front of her face. "Ya on Earth, babe, or should I send out a spaceship?"

"Oh," Sheila mumbled, blinking. "Oh. Um… I… was thinking. Yeah. Thinking – not of you, or anything, other things… ahhhh…" she felt herself blush, and saw him smiling.

"You were looking at me?"

"No! I mean… I was thinking of… stuff…" Sheila felt her cheeks heat up even more and hunkered down on the couch to hide her humiliation.

"We had better go." The cool statement came from Leo. He had risen and now stood with his arms crossed behind them. A frown creased his forehead.

"Aw, party pooper," Mikey grumbled getting up. "I guess I'll see ya around, Sheil'?"

"Yeah! Definitely! I mean, sure!" Sheila felt her cheeks warm up again. Leo's frown deepened, but he said nothing.

"Donnie! C'mon, lover boy! We're going home!" Mikey called. Don came hurrying out of the office, flushing.

"'Lover boy'?" he growled in Mike's direction as he passed.

"You were in a lady's room," his brother smirked.

"Her office, Mike! Not her bedroom!" Don was looking embarrassed now. April had followed him out and was looking equally humiliated.

"I didn't specify which room, but it's a lady's," Mikey sniffed obnoxiously. He grinned at Sheila. "See ya around, babe!" He and his brothers slid open a window that led to the alley, leaping from fire-escape to fire-escape and away, out of sight.

"You seemed to hit it off with them pretty well!" April commented, closing the window.

"Mikey's easy to get along with," Sheila agreed. "Don and Raph are pretty friendly… but Leonardo's a bit strange. What's his problem?"

"He's overprotective," April smiled. "He softenes up eventually, don't worry."

"I somehow doubt it," remarked Sheila with a shudder. "He gives me the creeps." She got up. "Well, I'd better go now. Thanks for the tea!"

"No problem! I'll see you later!"

Sheila let herself out of the door and set off down the alley, humming to herself happily. She could not remember feeling so content before! She rounded the corner, coming out on the main street. A prickling along the back of her neck made her look back, but she saw nothing. With a shrug she turned and mingled with the crowd.

* * *

"Just what were you thinking?" Leonardo snapped at Mikey. They were in the lair. Mikey was watching TV, Leo standing with his arms crossed in front of him, stubbornly blocking the screen. "We don't even _know her_. You just brought her home! You didn't even tell sensei! Just because he was out – "

"Just get off my case," Mikey snapped back. Now he knew why Raph got so easily ticked at their blue-banded brother. He just wouldn't let it _go_.

"You sound like Raph," Leo snorted. "Listen! She could have told someone! She might still tell someone! We can't see her again, is that clear? Especially since you two… _like _each other!" He let the impact of these words sink in, and a look of dawning comprehension cross Michelangelo's face, followed shortly by one of anger.

"'_Like _each other'?" he demanded. "We were talking! It's called being friendly."

"I know what I saw," Leo growled. "I won't have it, Michelangelo! She's a human. It will never happen, so just – "

"But that didn't stop you liking Karai!" Mikey got up and stormed toward his room, yelling over his shoulder, "And you can't stop me seeing her!" before he slammed his door. Leo stayed where he was for a moment, then slowly turned and walked toward the dojo.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I think shangala (sp...?) means jackass in Spanish. Being Canadian I'm not learning Spanish, so I wouldn't know. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

For all you Leo fans - I know I'm making him out to be the 'bad guy' in this. I don't hate him, so please don't kill me! Bear with him, he'll come around! He just needs to thaw a bit.

As always, review, please! You know the drill...


	4. Don VS Sudoku

A/N: Yes! Finally! An update! This is promising. Maybe all is not lost. (backs off as angry mob advances) Alright! Here's the chappie!

Warnings: Again, mild swearing. And plenty of stiff-older-brother-Leo moments. But he gets over itat the end.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Ninja Turtles. However I do own Sheila and her family, and will be pissed if anybody steals her! She took an entire two-hour phone conversation to create! Can you guess with who...?

**White Raven**

_Don VS Sudoku_

* * *

Sheila stopped in a café on her way home. She bought a cinnamon bun and a milkshake, sitting outside to eat them. She absently watched a pigeon peck at a burger wrapper on the sidewalk, thought drifting vaguely. A group of kids from school walked past, and she didn't even acknowledge them. It was only when someone tapped her on the shoulder did she snap out of her daydream.

"Shy?" It was Jason. He sat opposite her on one of the spindly high-backed chairs and rested his elbows on the table, watching her. "Didn't expect to see you out and about this early!"

"Ha ha," she said sarcastically, slurping on her milkshake. "What are you doing out?"

"Bored. Just walking around. You?"

"Same." She playfully swatted at his hand as he made a grab for her cinnamon bun. "Hey! I paid a buck and a half for that!"

"Buck and a half? This place crazy?" Jason licked the icing from his fingers that he had managed to swipe. "You can get three for that price at a street vendor's."

"I was hungry," Sheila shrugged. She broke a piece off her bun chewed on it. "So wassup?"

"Oh, just trying to stay out of the house." Jason made a face. "I hate it when Mom gets all upset. You're so lucky your parents get along." There was a note of wistfulness in his voice that made Sheila feel distinctly ungrateful, that she didn't deserve to have such a good family. She looked away.

"I'm sorry, Jay," she whispered. Jason gave her a lopsided grin.

"For some more of your bun I'll cheer up," he said sweetly. Sheila shot him a half-glare, but pushed the plate toward him.

"Rhetorical little rascal."

"Don't use such long words," Jason complained as he bit into his part of the cinnamon bun. "Makes my head hurt." Sheila grinned involuntarily. If anyone could bring a smile to her face it was Jason.

They sat for a quiet minute, enjoying one another's company and watching the activity around them. A buzzing noise from Jason's wristwatch made Sheila jump slightly.

"Ugh, alarm, I gotta go." Jason swiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slid off the stool. "See ya later Shy." He walked off, hands in pockets. Sheila felt an odd tingly sensation up her spine as he disappeared, similar to the one she felt when looking at Mikey.

_Why am I being so flippant? _Sheila demanded of herself with a mental growl. _I can't _possibly _like them both. I can't. I won't!_

_Chicken, _a snide voice accused. _Jason's nickname suits you, 'Shy'._

Sheila got up abruptly, stuffing the remainder of her cinnamon bun into her mouth and crumpling the plastic milkshake cup in her fist.

_Shut up, _she snarled at the antagonizing voice. _Just shut up. I do _NOT _like either Mikey or Jason!_

An unbidden image of Mikey relaxing on the couch swam up from the darkest recesses of her mind. Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, Sheila ground her teeth and shoved that thought away. She stalked out onto the street, letting the broken cup fall into the garbage bin on her way out. Thrusting her hands into her jeans' pockets, she kept her eyes averted to the pavement and consentrated on her footsteps. People buffeted her on all sides and she stuck to the buildings to avoid the worst of the crowds.

_What shall I do? _She asked herself idly, kicking a marble-sized rock on the ground. It skittered onto the street and disappeared in the whirl of traffic. _I don't want to go home yet I've done all my homework. I could go to the park…_

Deciding against the latter option – she knew it would be packed to the gunnels on a weekend – Sheila headed for the harbour

The harbour was bustling too, but she knew of a secret secluded spot along the docks. She snuck beneath the pier in question – a disused subject with a few rotten boards and old, frayed rope coiled loosely in amongst the ancient lobster traps – and sat under the wooden slats, hugging her knees to her chest, and drawing designs in the sand with her finger. Her one good eye slid out of focus as she sank inside herself, into her thoughts.

_There is no way I like Mikey, _she decided. _He's a turtle. End of conversation. That in itself is too problematic. And Jason…_

_Jason is your friend. Your best friend. That's it._

_Right?_

These new and somewhat uneasy thoughts confused Sheila. She had always been a simple girl with simple priorities. Get good grades, improve her drawing, don't fight with her family. Avoid her classmates. But these new potential porogatives were more complex. Imagine if she had to go out with one of them…?

_You're getting ahead of yourself, _she pointed out to her imagination that was now working at a hundred miles an hour, turning over every possibility of having a boyfriend, be him human or terrapin. _Maybe neither of them even like you that way. You're exaggerating it._

With a groan Sheila shook her head, and looked down at the sqiggly lines and odd geometrical shapes she had unwittingly drawn in the sand. She smoothed her flip-flop over it to erase it and picked at the old pile of fish net she sat on. Broken plastic buoys were strung along it every few feet, stagnant water pooling inside their cuplike interiors. Algae had collected inside these, making the water more of a slimy mass than of liquid.

_Face it. Nobody would _ever _like you like that. _The snide voice was back. _You're not exactly a beauty; although, maybe Michelangelo won't mind, being a turtle._

_Where did you even come from? _Sheila asked the voice irritably.

_Hell._

_Shut up._

A period of stony silence lay heavy as a blanket on the girl and her mental companion. Sunlight dripped through the pier above her, transfixing dust particles in its shafts. A water spider was busily spinning a web around a fly foolish enough to get too close. Sheila felt her stomach roll and looked away.

All of a sudden the hairs on the back of Sheila's neck stood straight up. She froze, certain she was being watched.

Something lept fluidly from the pier abover her onto the sloping bank of sand at her right. She let out a scream and scrambled backward, stifling anothing yell as the thing – whatever it was – advanced on her.

"Shh!" Leonardo hissed, lifting the brim of his fedora to glare at her warningly. "Someone will hear you." He crawled under the dock and sat beside her, icy eyes trained on her again. Sheila felt as if she were under a microscope.

"Well no one would hear me if you'd come up and told me who you were, instead of coming out of nowhere like some mugger!" she said furiously. His eyes narrowed to mere slits, and Sheila wondered if he could even see her.

Realizing getting him angry wasn't resolving anything, she sighed resignedly. "What do you want then?" she asked.

Leo raised an eye ridge his expression still had an icy edge to it.

"For your information," he told her coolly, "I always come here when I need to think. I wasn't expecting you here at all."

"Oh?" Sheila's temper was riled. "And why would someone as calm and collected as you need to think?" Her sarcasm was not wasted on him.

"Look," he snarled. "Just because you've been… been… _fraternizing _with my brothers, doesn't mean _I _trust you! Don't mouth off at me." He halted abruptly, glancing around. Someone was walking along the beach toward they're pier. Quick as a flash, Leo darted backward, tucking himself under the fishing net and squeezing behind a lobster trap.

The footsteps paused then slowly receaded as the person moved on. Leo poked his head out from behind the debris.

"_Fraternizing?_" Sheila demanded, "Is that what you think we were doing, _fraternizing_?" She was speechless. How dare he?

Leo did not reply, but gave her the cold shoulder, clambering cautiously out from the assorted dockyard garbage. Sheila was about to give him a slap in the face, but thought better of it. Instead she sat in fuming silence, arms crossed, staring determinedly at the water lapping at the beach a few yards away, turning over what he had said in her mind. She supposed grudgingly that he had a right to be angry at her, turning up in his life unexpectedly, but at the same time resented his offhand treatment of her. After all it wasn't her fault she had been taken back to the lair, although she wasn't sorry she had been.

"Why do you hate me?" Sheila asked suddenly, surprised by her own daring. Leo seemed tacken aback.

"I don't hate you," he replied roughly.

"Yes you do. You're always glaring at me, scowling when I'm around, and you're not always like that, according to April."

Leo seemed rather miffed that Sheila had been discussing him with April, but merely replied, "I don't hate you. I just don't trust you."

"But I gave my word!" Sheila protested, surprised. "I swore!"

"Not on your honour."

Sheila paused.

"I tell you what," she said quietly after a few moments. "I'll swear on my honour, if you promise not to mention it to anyone. Okay?"

Leonardo nodded solemnly. In any other situation Sheila would have laughed.

"Then I swear on my honour not to tell anyone about you guys, unless of course it's vital to your survival or something like that. I won't if it is purely for my own gain." She wrinkled her nose. "That formal enough for you?"

Leo gave a half-smile and nodded. "Yes. That put my mind at rest."

Sheila snorted, but Leo gave her a bemused look.

"I'm serious."

"I know. That's why it's funny!" Sheila checked her watch, swore under her breath, ignoring Leo's pointedly raised eyeridge.

"Shit, there's a TV programme I like on soon… I gotta go! See you later… as long as I leave my trackers and dinamite at home?"

Leonardo chuckled. "Maybe."

Sheila got up and crawled out from under the pier, waved cheerily at Leo, and jogged out of sight, feeling that she had gotten somewhere with the stony immobile terrapin.

* * *

_Scratch, scratch, scratch, _went the lead on the paper. Don gnawed on the eraser of his pencil, eyes locked on the grid of squares on the paper. A drop of sweat coursed slowly down his temple, unnoticed. He tapped irritatedly on his desk with his other hand, mind whirring. He must solve the puzzle! The lives of the entire population… no, the very fabric of the world hung in the balance, suspended, barely held up by his intellectual capacity, able to outwit any problem…

"_Damn _Sudoku!" he muttered under his breath, eyes scrunched up as he stared at the numbers again. "How can three be there if there's already a three in that box? Therefore, the three must go _here_. No, wait. There's a three in the diagonal. How about here? No, no, it could just as easily be here. I'll come back to it. How about this nine then? It could go here… but then it would clash with the nine in the horizontal!"

_Knock knock._

Don jumped a foot in the air, smacking his head on his adjustable desk lamp and sending the pencil flying across the room. He gave a muttered curse in Japanese, rubbing his bruised skull with one hand, bending to retrieve the pencil with the other.

"Come in!"

"Hey Donnie…" Mikey opened the door, blinked. "What, did I desturb your nap?"

"Huh?" Don stood up.

"It's dark in here! How can you _see?_"

"Um…" Don hadn't even noticed. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, realizing for the first time how tired they were. He must have strained them.

Mikey sauntered into the room, flicking on the light switch en route. Don's eyes streamed as a sudden burst of light flooded the dingy space, and he wiped his hand across his face. He had hung his bandanna on the edge of an especially thick book on physics, all the better to see the stubbornly unsolvable Sudoku. Mikey reflected it had been a while since he had seen his brainy brother without his mask on.

"So what do you want?" Don asked, seating himself on his wheeled desk chair and linking his hands beneath his chin. Mikey blinked, nonplussed.

"Whatcha mean, Donnie?"

"Have you broken something?"

Mikey shook his head.

"Has Raph broken something?"

"No."

"Has _Leo _broken something?"

"No! Nothing's broken. I… wanted to ask you something."

Don raised a sceptical eyeridge but said nothing. Mikey took a deep breath.

"Do you think we were right to bring Sheila back here?"

Don seemed surprised.

"What else were we supposed to have done?" he asked, confused. It had been, after all, Mikey's idea that they bring her back to the lair in the first place.

"I dunno," Mikey said softly. He sat heavily on the bed, eyes downcast. "Just some stuff Leo said…"

"Oh, he had a temper tantrum didn't he?" Don smiled wryly at Mikey's shocked face. "What? That's what they are."

"Yeah, but…" Mikey grinned. "I've never heard you call them that." He sobered quickly. "He accused me of… _liking _her, Donnie! Like I'd… I don't know… take advantage of her, or something." He buried his chin in his hand, gazing miserably at the floor again. "Now I'm starting to wonder if maybe it'd be better to stay away from her, like he told me – "

"No," Don said firmly. "You're thinking this out too much. Look at it this way: we've all been around April and Casey a lot and he isn't that touchy around them, he hasn't been since we first met them. Once he got to know them he's mellowed out. Maybe that's all it'll take with Sheila." He gave his younger brother a reassuring smile. "Don't dwell on what Leo said, he was just being Leo, uptight, alert, and a pain in the neck. It's who he is. He's just being protective."

Mikey gave a heartfelt sigh. "Yeah, I guess."

"Not guesswork," Don said wisely. "I know. He'll thaw eventually." He swivelled his chair around, facing the aggravating Sudoku puzzle. "However, this _is _guesswork. How can a two be there if there's a two in that vertical row?"

Mikey snorted.

"You just have a Sudoku issue, don't you, bro?" he asked with a snigger.

"Maybe," Don grumbled, scribbling furiously with his eraser on the paper. "Stupid thing." He flipped irately through the _Reader's Digest Sudoku _book that April had bought him. "I think I'll just stick to crosswords." He stuffed the booklet aside and got up. Mikey stood too, and they exited the room together, Don with the intention of scoping out another, less difficult passtime.

Mikey sauntered jauntily to the kitchen. Don headed for the TV area. Perhaps there was a crossword book on the coffee table.

A thorough inspection proved fruitless. With a frustrated sigh Don sat back on his heels having rooted under the recliner for any sign of a dropped and forgotten crossword book. He was about to give up when the elevator dinged and out stepped Leonardo, decked out in his usual fedora and trench coat, a newspaper tucked casually under one arm. Don practically raced over to him.

"A newspaper, my savior!" he cried, whisking the paper from his older brother, flicking excitedly through it to the cartoons. Leo simply raised an eyebrow delicately, taking off his hat and hanging it on the coatrack.

"Don't you have anything to do?" he asked. Don was devouring the crossword eagerly from where he stood, pencil zooming over the paper at lightning speed.

"All the vehicle's are in tip-top shape," he answered absently. "All my gear's oiled, the elevator's running smoothly. And I can't invent anything new without a mental stimulant." He fell silent, eyes scrutinizing the puzzle. "What's a six letter word for 'an X-man comic'?"

"Snikit!" Mikey called from the kitchen doorway, holding a plate of leftover pizza. He saw Leo hanging up his coat and his smile faded. He stamped off to his room.

Leonardo gave Donatello one last look of bland surprise – the purple-banded turtle was grinning inanely at the crossword, muttering something about 'incompetent puzzle' and 'unable to evade my wrath' – and headed toward Master Splinter's quarters to greet him. Don was left standing in the centre of the room, locked in a battle of wits with a printed pattern of blank squares.

* * *

A/N: Yes! Don stinks at Sudoku! That doesn't even make sense! But whatever.

Please review. 0:-)

And I got the X-man thing from CPQ, who got it from Reijiro. Thanks chicas! Please, everyone, if the spelling or anything was incorrect, tell me!


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